Fight Another Day
by marieYOTZ
Summary: Regina has accepted her fate, to be killed for her crimes. She's made her peace - or at least she really thinks she has, until Emma Swan shows up with other plans. This is a LOOSE continuation of "Imperfect Hearts" - I say loose because tonally, the two stories couldn't be much more different Thanks all so much for the follows and favorites and reviews. It does my heart good
1. Chapter 1

Regina Mills, the Evil Queen, curser of worlds and the villain of the piece was resigned to her fate, or so she thought. She'd waged a war against the world for so many years, with every weapon she could lay her hands on, all to try and find one solitary scrap of happiness on which to plant her flag and claim victory; and she'd failed, with stunning regularity – always bested by good, by virtue, by light. She was, quite frankly, tired of all the losses. This final failure – the fall of Storybrooke – was enough to convince her to simply give up the fight. They'd won, they'd always win. Let them have their victory written in her blood. She was done. She'd made her peace, and accepted that her only legacy would be as a cautionary tale to the wicked – or at least she really believed that she had, right up until the moment that the door to her tower cell opened and she saw the White Knight standing there, striking a bold pose, her arrival announced not by the bright blare of trumpets, but by the resonating snores of Regina's guards.

"Come on, Regina. Time for our great escape." Emma stated, stepping into the room even as Regina leapt up from her cot to go stare out the door, stunned, at the comatose men scattered in the hall.

"Ms. Swan, what on _earth _did you do?" She asked slowly, eyes wide with shock, and maybe just a _tiny _spark of enjoyment at the state of her jailers. Oh, how quickly that carefully cultivated sense of surrender was fleeing from her now…

Emma leaned around the door frame and peeked down the hall, the furrow of her brow making her look a little worried, a little guilty. "Well, I've heard the guys complaining about how they missed Granny's buttermilk biscuits now that the diner is kaput, so… I had her whip them up a batch. With a little Nightshade, or whatever."

Regina turned to Emma and cocked an eyebrow, dubious. "If she'd used Nightshade, they'd be convulsing and dying right now."

Emma sighed, slinging a rucksack off her shoulder and pressing it into Regina's hands. "Fine, it was Eye of Newt. I don't know. I forgot my herbology primer back in Storybrooke. There's some clothes in there," she said, gesturing to the sack. "You should change. Not that you aren't rockin' the 'barefoot in burlap' look – just not sure it's going to be functional."

Regina had not survived as long as she had by dithering during a moment that required action, and so she complied with the directive without hesitation, emptying the sack of clothes onto the bed, pulling the poorly made dress she wore over her head and tossing it aside before shimmying into a – quite finely made – pair of riding breeches, and equally fine blouse and jacket. "Just what are you about, Ms. Swan?" She asked, as she sat to pull on a pair of soft leather boots. "You can turn back around, I'm clothed, your virtue is safe."

Emma, who'd been staring intently at the stone wall, now turned, and leaned against it, tapping her fingers against her thighs, the picture of nervous energy.

"I told you – we're making a great escape… Are you ready?"

Regina looked around the room, which contained… nothing, and shrugged her shoulders. "As I'll ever be." Truthfully, she was bemused by the entire situation. She'd never been the damsel in the tower before, awaiting rescue. Emma Swan just never stopped finding ways to put Regina off of her game.

As Emma led the way into the hallway, walking cautiously around the sleeping men, she whispered over her shoulder to Regina. "It was Henry… These past few nights, since he found out… I can hear him crying. I swear, I could hear it in my dreams. It was killing me." She eased open a door leading to a spiraling stairwell. As they started winding down, down, down, she reached back and lightly grabbed one of Regina's hands, leading the way, keeping Regina close. Regina had no idea what to think of the thoughtful action, so wisely chose not to think about it at all, and merely followed along. "So when Henry asked me to do something about it, I said okay-"

"Henry asked you to do this?" Regina interrupted, only just besting the pang of complicated love that made her want to sit down and cry. She was sort of glad now, for the steadying hand on hers.

Emma snorted. "Oh, yes. I didn't come up with the name Operation Sidewinder myself, believe me."

"You should have told him no…" Regina whispered. "It'd be better for him in the long-run…" She trailed off. A part of her really believed that.

Emma stopped short, and turned to look at Regina, squinting against the dim light of the stairway. "Regina – you're his mom. You being killed won't be better for him. Not short-run, not long-run, not ever. Henry matters to me more than anything, and his mom's not dying on my watch." And where Henry was concerned, it was _always_ Emma's watch.

"He's not coming with us, though…" Emma continued, resuming her progress down the stairs. "We decided it's safer for him here – you and I will do better without him to worry about."

Regina mulled that over. "You… and I?" She echoed. "You're coming with me?"

Again, Emma snorted. Regina was going to have to teach her some slightly less… brutish… noise of disdain at some point. "Lady, if you think I'm sticking around to take the fall on this one, you've got another thing coming. Henry and I thought it'd be better if I made myself scarce for awhile, until this blows over. And this way I can keep an eye on you. Pull a little White Knight action if you get it in your head to try and conquer the realm, or whatever you people are into."

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Emma dropped Regina's hand, and pushed open a heavy wooden door. The cool night air against her skin was one of the sweetest things Regina had ever felt, and against that gentle breeze, the last vestiges of her resignation just blew away, replaced by the will – fragile, but growing stronger by the second – to try just one more time.

They moved more quickly now, away from the tower, and over to the tree-line, which they followed towards the stables. Regina hadn't had much of a chance for a homecoming tour when Storybrooke collapsed, and left them back in Fairy Tale Land, but this was a place she remembered well, and as fondly as she remembered anything to do with her unhappy marriage. Hitched to a pole was one of the single most worn-out looking creatures that Regina had ever laid eyes on. She looked at Emma doubtfully.

"Ms. Swan…" She began, turning back to look with a sort of bemused horror at the way the horse's head drooped woefully towards the ground. "What is this?"

Emma shrugged. "He's my horse. Mickey Mouse. I'm not much of a rider, you know, so they got me a sorta low-key one."

Regina shook her head. No. Absolutely not. "Ms. Swan, this animal is older than I am."

Emma whistled long and low, earning her a sharp glare from Regina. "Sorry, I joke when I'm nervous, little tic of mine." Regina just rolled her eyes, and then stepped away from Emma into the dark of the stable building. Unsure what to do, Emma turned to Mickey, scratching along his neck. "She didn't mean any offense, Mick… You're the greatest."

A few moments later, Regina emerged from the building with a triumphant smile, leading a massive spirited… steed. That was the only word Emma could think of. That was a straight up wild-eyed super-stallion. And one that she recognized.

"Uh, Regina?" She said, slowly, suspecting this little protest would be futile. "That's my dad's horse, I'm pretty sure."

Regina's eyes sparked. Oh, she was feeling lively now. "And a truly remarkable animal he is!" She turned towards the horse's side, running a hand along the saddle, then moved to cinch up the girth. "Your… parents…" she forced out, as she tugged at the strap under the horse's belly "… were so torn up about how I prevented them from giving you the very best the world has to offer-" Adjustment completed, she looked towards Emma and smiled in a way that was just a little bit wicked, and despite herself, Emma was glad to see the traces of that old heedless confidence on Regina's face, "-and now, I'm helping them to make up for lost time!"

Emma resigned herself. In for a penny, in for a pound. She helped Regina move the saddle bags from the one horse to the other, and then watched as Regina swung lithely and easily up into the saddle of the enormously tall horse. The horse side-stepped and danced around a little, but Regina brought him quickly to heel, grinning all the while.

At least she looked liked she knew what she was doing up there, Emma thought dubiously. One last quick circle around, and then Regina brought the horse to a stop just exactly before Emma. She reached her hand down and smiled, and even with only the moonlight lighting the night, Emma could see how her dark eyes glinted with… with trouble, with excitement, with the prospect of one more day to fight. "Oh hell…" Emma mumbled, as she reached out, took the offered hand, got a foot in the stirrup, and swung on up. She landed snug behind Regina, in a way that was… not unpleasant.

"Hold on tight, White Knight." Regina said, looking over her shoulder – my god, Emma thought. She actually had grinned. Emma wrapped her arms tight around Regina's waist and threw a final Hail Mary up to whoever it was in Fairy Tale Land that accepted those sorts of things. Zeus or whatever. "Yah!" Regina cried out then, giving the horse a swift tap in the ribs. The animal bolted like the barn was on fire, and Emma… Emma just held on for dear life.

High above, on one of the castle walls, a little boy watched the two women disappear into the night, and he smiled to himself, even as tears pricked at his eyes. A complicated sort of happiness. "Operation Sidewinder is a go…" he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

"If we don't stop soon, my thighs are going to be permanently molded to the shape of your ass." They'd ridden hard through the night down the Queen's road, which had the benefit of running so straight and true away from the castle that very little light was needed to follow it. When the first hazy promise of sunrise started playing on the horizon, Regina had steered the horse off the main road and into the woods – dark and deep, and well equipped to keep them safely hidden. Several hours had passed since then, and Regina guessed it was nearing mid-day. The two women had travelled quietly 'til now, but Emma had apparently reached the end of her ability to not irritate Regina.

"Of all the many things you've had between your thighs, Ms. Swan, I'd guess my ass-" Ah, that girl and her vernacular, "-is probably one of the finer ones."

Emma huffed out a laugh, Regina felt the force of it against the back of her neck, an unfamiliar sensation. Historically, people who'd been in the proximity to Regina that Emma currently was had precious little to laugh about. "Regina, if you're going to start fishing for ass-compliments from me, you might as well start calling me by my first name."

"I wasn't-" Fine. Okay, yes. Regina had intended a barb, but it may have come off a bit laden with innuendo. "I'll think about it." She finished lamely. The sheer absurdity of this situation was addling her wits. Honestly, a break was probably advisable at this point – she was also starting to feel the strain of hours in the saddle, though she was not quite so prone to grouse about it as her companion.

With a relieved groan, Emma swung out of the saddle and down onto the ground, sinking into a stretch to try and appease the tight and sore muscles in her legs. Regina followed suit then went to tie the horse off and check him over. "If you don't mind me saying so, Ms. Swan, you seem to be taking your newly earned status of abettor of the Evil Queen, fugitive, and child-deserter with a rather… puckish good humor. I dare say you seem… happy." Now that had a little more of the old world Regina zing to it – Emma's face fell instantly, and she looked off into the distance, abashed, troubled. Regina recognized that expression fairly well from the 'Emma in Storybrooke' era; it was the look that told Regina that whatever disparagement she'd thought of to level at Emma had hit with wicked accuracy. She didn't even notice the tiny triumphant smile playing at her lips as she resumed picking the horse's hooves. Ass-compliments, indeed.

Emma walked closer to where Regina was working, and sank down against a tree trunk, one knee tucked up close, and the other leg extended out. "Can I be honest with you?" She asked, picking up a leaf and slowly ripping bits of it off and flicking them away, mindlessly.

"I've yet to figure out how to prevent it, so I'm sure I'd have no success now." Regina said by way of an answer, looking briefly over her shoulder to where Emma was sitting.

"I think… it was a lot easier for me to agree to this plan with Henry than it should have been." She stared at some spot in the middle-distance, lips drawn into a worried frown. "It wasn't exactly that I wanted an excuse to leave, I just…" There was such a long pause then that Regina turned back to Emma, releasing the horse's final hoof and actually shifting her body around to be seated facing Emma, in a way that might have almost been considered encouraging.

"I did," Emma finally continued. "I wanted an excuse to leave." She looked quickly at Regina, and shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. Clearly the non-comprehension she saw in Regina's face made her feel even worse. "You don't know what it's like – none of you do. You're all from here, this is your home. It's not mine." She paused again, clenching and unclenching her jaw, seeming as though she wanted to explain further, but had to put together the words.

"There's this… expectation… that I somehow adjust. Snow and Charming are the worst, or maybe it's just that disappointing them feels the worst – but it's everyone. Even Henry. They're all watching me for that moment when princess-ness finally settles on me like a layer of fucking fairy dust, and it's just never going to happen. I didn't just lose my memories of this world. I've never _been _here. It's like they all expect that somehow I'll just shuck off the first 28 years of my life and… I don't know how to do that. Everything I am is a result of everything I've lived through, and even the parts I'd _want _to, I don't know how to erase – and all I've been doing since I got here is just letting everybody down. You know?"

"All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Princess Swan together again…" Regina murmured, as she pushed to her feet. Oh, she understood - probably more than anyone else could - what Emma was saying about how a person was shaped by the things they lived through; how they are chipped away, bit by bit, a day at a time, and whatever shape they take is inexorably the one that they shall have. Yes, Regina understood painfully well, and she could have said that, and been a source of comfort against Emma's struggle – but that wasn't how she'd been made. "Ms. Swan – I couldn't be less interested in the ongoing saga of the Charming family. If you're going to insist on filling every silence with the inane dribbling of your heart, please just tell me so, so I can go surrender myself to death now." Have a care about to whom you bare your soul, Emma Swan. There are predators in this world.

Emma just cocked her head to look up at Regina, eyes that had seemed so open just an instant ago now hard – but not distant; they bored directly into Regina's. This expression of Emma's was another that Regina remembered very well, and not at all fondly, from Storybrooke. Under the steady gaze, Regina always felt like a feral animal, too stupid to come in from the cold – determined to rip every helping hand to shreds, and freeze to death instead. Finally Emma stood up as well, and shrugged. Give the girl credit, she could take a jab well. "Fine. My mistake. Let's get going."

After re-mounting, the women resumed their ambling progress through the forest, back to the silence they'd traveled in initially. The quiet between them no longer felt companionable, though. While Emma physically sat just as close behind Regina as she'd been before, Regina sensed a space between them that, despite a valiant effort not to care, she riled against. Aloneness was born in little spaces like this, and it would grow and shift around Regina, and lock her up as solitary and untouchable as a glass coffin ever could.

Regina endured the weight of the silence as long as she could, but whatever Emma might think about herself, she certainly knew how to _sulk _like a princess – a haughty withholding of favor that would ultimately bend her subjects to her will, have them kowtowing to please her. Fine. Just fine.

"Do you know why I always resented Snow?" Regina finally forced herself to ask, a little burst of relief just at having cut against the silence.

Emma was slow to answer – like she expected a trick in the question, but couldn't quite resist playing along. "Because she got your fiancé killed?" She finally ventured.

Regina shook her head, staring determinedly at the space between the horse's ears. She was glad Emma couldn't see her face while she spoke. "No – that was why I hated her. The resentment was… different. I resented her because there was nothing Snow could do, no danger that she could find herself in, that someone would not reach out to see her safe from. There was never an end to the dwarves, or princes, or Saviors, who would crash onto the scene to valiantly assist her. I was even one of them, once upon a time. The harder I tried to destroy her, the more the world seemed to turn itself all around to make sure that she was forever protected, forever loved." Regina hesitated a long time before continuing – she sensed Emma was listening closely, and if she continued, she'd never be able to take back what she was offering up now… But Regina would risk a lot to press back against these creeping tendrils of aloneness – right at this moment, she'd risk everything – so she forced herself to speak on.

"The only person who ever reached out to help me was destroyed for it; the world, it seemed, had precious little interest in protecting me from anything at all…" She turned her head a little now, not so far that she'd actually have to meet Emma's gaze, but enough that Emma could see her rueful smile. "Until you came to Storybrooke. Fires, wraiths, certain death. Snow White, it seems has the whole world… And I have Emma Swan."

"And Henry…" Emma added, close at Regina's ear. Regina nodded. Yes, Henry, too. Two steadfast souls in her corner, more than she deserved.

Regina was quiet a moment before she finally spoke again. "Will that be sufficient, Emma, or would you like me to dredge up some more personal failings for you to contemplate?"

Again, there was that feeling of laughter against her. It was a nice feeling – like the opposite of aloneness. "That's okay for now, Your Majesty. It's going to be a long trip, don't want to tap out all your material in one day." Regina felt Emma relax against her back, felt tension melting out of the arms wrapped around her waist, and as silence settled back around them, Regina tried to think of a time she'd felt less burdened, and found that she couldn't call one to mind.


	3. Chapter 3

_**(Sorry about the lack of Emma/Regina this chapter... Will get back to them next, I promise! Thanks all so much for the reviews and follows, it's really encouraging)**_

Chapter 3

In the passing rare moments when an opportunity came to have a private thought, surprisingly often Snow found herself missing the quiet, unobserved life of Mary Margaret Blanchard. She'd spent 28 years as the woman, just about as long as she'd been Snow White, and… well, it really hadn't been that bad a life, if she set aside thoughts of the pain she hadn't known she felt over the husband and child who'd been ripped from her.

Yes, Mary had been meek, a consummate wallflower – but hadn't she been a good teacher, a good friend? Sometimes, when no one was looking, Snow would close her eyes and conjure up that little cozy apartment, where no drafts had ever found entry through crumbling stone walls, and no blustering old men ever invited themselves in to bellow at her their demands for justice, for their blood red retribution. She'd remember, fondly, sitting on the sofa with Emma – still just a friend and roommate, then – and how easily they'd laughed together about the happenings of that sleepy town, and commiserated over their woes.

This, unfortunately, was not one of those passing rare moments. She stared stonily at the men gathered around the council table, hearing the words of their anger without really listening to them. Men, all men, her father's men. She'd never even had the chance to become her own kind of ruler she'd always been pulled away before she could do the things she'd wanted to do, before she could make the kingdom her own – pulled away by queens, by curses. It never really seemed to end. And now, this. The red-faced man speaking at her now had been her dentist in Storybrooke… Now she was obliged to accept his counsel?

"—Certainly I understand that this is difficult for Your Majesty, given the apparent involvement of your child in the Evil Queen's escape… but now is not the time to let personal attachments weaken your rule of this land. You must act decisively to recapture Regina and put her to her end! The Evil Queen _must die!" _

Snow slapped a hand hard against the table, the sound resonating through the room. The sudden furious gesture from the woman who had listened so stoically 'til now startled the man into silence.

"Enough. I have heard all I care to of your thoughts on this topic. I will hear no more tonight." The words were barely out before the voices of protest poured forth, one atop another. She paid them no heed, simply pushed her chair back, stood, and walked slowly and with regal dignity from the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, though, that strength of bearing left her and she slumped against the cold stone wall, waiting for the one person who could ease her struggle. She had to wait but a moment before her Charming exited that same door, and made things seem better with nothing more than the strength of his hand as it wrapped around hers, and the absolute truest of loves that shone forever in his eyes.

Gently, he pulled her away from the wall, and into the comfort of an embrace. "Snow…" he whispered against her hair, "… it will be alright."

She pulled back a little to look into his eyes, and smiled as though she believed him. Briefly, she remembered similar moments they'd shared when she was Mary Margaret, and he was David, and he'd promise her that somehow they'd turn wrong actions to right ones, and she'd agreed because to disagree would've broken her heart. Right now, she had to think there was a way to fix this all.

Feeling a little settled just by his nearness, and the blessed quiet surrounding them now, she pulled away from him, and held out her hand, to lead him towards their chambers. "I can't believe Emma did this." Snow said as they walked. "I mean – the mother part of me can't believe it; I think the Mary Margaret part is not really so surprised."

James squeezed her hand. "We knew that she was having a hard time…" He ventured, carefully.

It was true. Snow had sensed Emma's unhappiness, how much she'd been struggling with the transition to life in a world of fairy tales. Emma, however, had not been the only one who was struggling – the whole of the kingdom was staggering under the weight of what had happened to them. Those who had been taken were trying to find a way to resolve the past with the present, to find a way to arrange all the pieces of their fractured life into some semblance of order. Those who had been left behind saw the world order that they'd adjusted to cracked apart – the return of Snow's kingdom and the resumption of her reign displacing the forces that had filled the vacuum its disappearance had left behind. The power mongers of yesterday's world were left jostling for space and influence in today's. Not everyone was pleased to have the beloved queen back upon the throne.

So yes, Snow had guessed that Emma might be floundering – but being the queen that her people needed during this tumultuous time took everything that Snow had, and, hoping she was misreading Emma's state, she'd pushed concerns about her daughter so far to the side that Emma probably had felt she'd fallen off the pile altogether. To give credit where it is due, Emma had really been marvelous at stepping up to all that was asked of her as Snow's daughter and heir – tolerating feasts and banquets and balls in 'celebration' of their return; attending endless council sessions about the state of affairs both within the heart of the kingdom, and out on the borders were trouble seemed to be brewing; listening stoically as people who were now almost strangers to her cried out for the blood of the woman who had been a mother to Henry.

Thinking now of how distraught Henry had been at the prospect of Regina's death, Snow thought maybe she understood why Emma had done what she'd done. Revenge, like magic, always came with a price - Snow had certainly learned that lesson well enough. How could the death of his mother cost anything less than Henry's innocence? Emma must have just felt like she'd already lost enough.

Snow slowed to a stop as they reached their rooms, and released James's hand. "I have to go talk to Henry…"

James' lips pulled into a small smile as he nodded, encouraging. The way he looked at her made it clear that he would forever trust her judgment, forever believe that a heart as true as hers couldn't help but do right.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

After a soft tap against the heavy door, Snow pushed it open to enter Henry's room. The boy, stretched out on his bed, glanced up at her, looking petrified in a way Snow had never wanted her grandson to be. Granted, she hadn't spent much time thinking about how she'd be as a grandmother – she'd thought she'd have some time to be a mother first- but some things… you just know. She loved the child, she wanted him to love her. So she let the tension ease out of her expression, and smiled at him kindly, gently. She crossed the room to fold herself into a sitting position on the edge of his bed.

"Henry…" She started slowly. "May I take it from the way that you're looking at me right now that you know something about Regina's escape?"

The boy nodded slowly, looking for all the world like one of her Storybrooke pupils, caught misbehaving, trying to think of a way to avoid getting in trouble for it. "Yea…" He finally answered, looking up at Snow for her reaction, his features etched with worry. "Me and Emma came up with a plan to save my mom. We decided that Emma could get her out and they could go and hide, until…"

Snow scooted a little closer, and put a hand on Henry's back, rubbing gently. "Until what?" She prompted.

She felt the sigh as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a very big sigh for one so young. "Well, we didn't really have that part totally worked out. Until everyone just stops wanting to kill her?" He offered up lamely. "I'm trying to think of a way that she can make things okay, and not have to die, but I haven't gotten very far." He looked away from her then, and his lips tightened. He was not sorry, he was determined.

Snow couldn't suppress a little laugh, though she was already rubbing her eyes, worn out, as the sound erupted from her. She leaned back against the pillows at the head of Henry's bed. As plans went, it appeared that Emma and Henry's had left a little to be desired.

He shot her a funny look, clearly confused by her laughter. "I…" he started out, as though maybe Snow just needed him to explain more, "I just didn't want her to die, Mary Margaret… She's my mom."

Snow's hands dropped from her eyes to settle in her lap. She turned her head to look at him questioningly. Odd that he'd used the old name. Since the curse had been broken, he'd always called her "Snow" – and always so emphatically, as though each time he used the name, it reinforced that he had been right all along, that he'd always known who she _really _was. But now, he called her Mary Margaret, the name of a woman who had helped him, had reached out when he needed it, as though he was trying to summon that old friend back. Maybe Henry was thinking now that queens are all well and good, but not much use as grandmothers. Well, she'd convince him otherwise. She couldn't directly help Emma right now, but she could help Henry.

Smiling gently, she waved him closer to her. With only a moment's hesitation, he slid across the space separating them and cuddled against her side. Snow pressed a kiss against his forehead, and tousled his hair, a comforting gesture.

"Do you want to know a secret, Henry? I didn't want her to die, either." He glanced up at her, stunned. She just smiled again, and nodded. It was the truth, but it was a complicated truth. More complicated then she could explain to Henry right in this moment. "There was a lot more to my relationship with Regina than was in your book, Henry." She stated simply. "What is real is very rarely as simple as a fairy tale."

He frowned a little, still gazing at her, trying to understand. "Then why were you going to let them kill her?"

It was a fair question. "Being the queen is… difficult, Henry. When so many voices are demanding the wrong thing, it's hard to hear your own voice, telling you what the right thing is."

He looked at her, solemnly. "But you're the good Queen – you always do the right thing."

Ah, Henry. Sweet, faithful boy. "I always want to, Henry. That's why I have you, and Emma, and James. To always help me remember who I am, and the kind of queen I want to be…" She reached down and took one of his hands in hers. "I'm going to find a way to make this right, Henry. That's a promise."

The small smile her promise brought to his face sang of hope. "I thought after the curse had broken, that all the happy endings would come back. But maybe we just have to work a little harder?" Henry suggested.

Snow smiled at that. "Maybe so… I'm learning that happy endings are pretty elusive – but if we can put enough happy todays together, eventually we'll get there." She brushed a hand across his hair again, glad to see him smile. "Alright, Henry. Time for bed. With both of your moms gone, looks like you're stuck with Grandma and Grandpa, here."

"Don't worry, I promised Emma that I'd be good 'til she got back!" Henry assured her with a grin. "I'll go to bed. But… do you think you could tell me a story first?"

Snow beamed at the suggestion, realizing suddenly that some of the happiest memories she had from Storybrooke were of sitting in a rocking chair in her classroom, her students gathered around her for a story. "Of course I will." A story for her grandson, lying so close to her that his cheek pressed against her shoulder. All the unhappiness of her day slipped away, forgotten.

"Once upon a time, there was a town called Storybrooke. In that town lived a school teacher named Mary Margaret. She didn't know it, but she was the luckiest woman in the whole world…"


	4. Chapter 4

A cave. She was in a cave, with a horse, and an evil queen, in a land populated by fairy tale characters.

Emma tried to remember what it was like to be in a city with run-of-the-mill shitty people, but that reality felt so far away as to be nothing more than a fantastical story someone told her when she was small.

Honestly, if someone had asked Emma right in that moment how exactly she ended up here, she'd have had a tough time explaining it. It had all rushed along so fast and of such necessity – like destiny. She, Emma Swan, who just a year and a half ago had been the girl that destiny forgot, had suddenly become the key to it. Now, here she was, just trying to catch up.

They'd stopped here to rest a few hours ago, figuring it would provide relatively more cover than the open air. Emma appreciated the logic in the decision, but holy hell, what she'd give to be lying on some pine needles right now. It was nearly impossible to get comfortable on this hard ground.

She looked over at where Regina lay. It was hard to make anything out in the dark, but Regina didn't _seem _to be having any trouble sleeping. So much for the whole 'no rest for the wicked' thing, Emma thought, uncharitably.

With a sigh, Emma flipped to her other side, clinging tightly to the memory of her bed, her mattress, her pillows, her flannel sheets, in the desperate hope that maybe tonight she'd dream about them. It took a little while longer, but eventually, sleep and Emma found each other.

**·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·:·**

When Emma awoke, she was alone. No horse, no queen, nothing. She wouldn't have described her response to this realization as panicking, exactly. It was more of a sense of unease that resulted in an elevated heart-rate and a semi-frantic search of the immediate exterior of their little grotto home, which revealed… more nothing. Regina had left her!

She waited for a time. Hard to tell exactly how long with the lack of decent time keeping devices in this land (God, she missed her cell phone but fiercely…) but it felt like a reasonable amount of time. What was she supposed to do? She wasn't going to sit here and die, waiting for someone who was never coming back – her life, the past few months excepted, hadn't really made her prone to optimism. There were no tracks to follow. The heavily carpeted forest floor took care of that possibility so even if she'd wanted to bother, she couldn't have. The woodland creatures hadn't jumped up to be of service – so much for the upside to being Snow White's daughter. Maybe they just hadn't received the memo yet. Whatever. Given the lack of other options, she decided she'd venture forth on her own a little – not too far, or anything. Close enough that she'd be able to find her way back here and reevaluate the situation. She'd just… go out and get her bearings a little. Just to feel like she was doing something.

Emma, however, had underestimated how much one tree looks like another. She thought she had a pretty decent mental map going – walk past the log, keep the moss facing east, another log, and loop back around. But either the moss or the logs had moved, or else she just really sucked at this, because about when she thought she ought to be back where she'd started from, she found herself staring at a creek bed she'd definitely never seen before. Fine. Cross orienteering off the born-in skill set of children of true love. Grimacing, she moved to wedge her hands in her pockets, except apparently pockets hadn't been invented in Fairy Tale Land, so her hands just slipped right on down her thighs. She hated this place. She wanted her jeans back.

The burbling water, while perfectly picturesque, was doing nothing to soothe the irritation that was really just a mask for very real anxiety, so she moved a little ways back and flopped down on the ground to think. Why would Regina do this to her? Call her a sucker, but she'd actually thought they'd been getting along okay in their own prickly way. This was how it _always_ was with Regina – hold out the hand of peace, get back the middle finger of 'fuck you'. Honestly, what had she _thought _was going to happen? Her thoughts continued in this vein right up until she heard the approaching sound of underbrush getting tromped underfoot, and very shortly thereafter saw Regina, atop the horse, emerge from the woods.

"Emma!" Regina barked, as she slid from the horse and stormed forward. "What on earth were you thinking of, wandering off?!" Emma's only thought was that Henry must have known that walk, that tone, so very well. What were you thinking of, running off to Boston; poking around an abandoned mine; fooling around in secret heart vaults. That, Emma felt sure, was the sound of concern, once relieved, morphing into anger. Ha! Regina had been worried about her. Small victory, but that was all you ever got with Regina.

Feeling a little giddy at the realization, and just generally about the fact that she was not in fact alone in the middle of the fucking Enchanted Forest, Emma couldn't help but to needle Regina just a little. "Regina, your concern over my well being is… and I mean this… really touching."

Instantly, Regina was on the defensive. "I was merely worried about having to tell Henry about his birth mother's painful end! I couldn't be less concerned if you decide to throw your life to the wolves! And I mean that literally!"

Regina had dragged the horse behind her to bring her within inches of Emma, right to the fringes of their own uniquely measured personal space bubble. She glared at Emma, expression aghast at the very suggestion that she'd any interest in the welfare of this irritant of a human being. Emma didn't buy it, she'd been doing this particular song and dance with Regina for more than a year now, and she could tell when Regina was bluffing. She'd totally been worried. Emma couldn't help pressing a little further. She was just so glad to see Regina, she needed to reaffirm the fact of Regina's presence by pissing her off. "I'm travelling with the Evil Queen! Just how much worse could it actually be out here?"

Regina's eyes narrowed at that statement, but she leaned back on her heels a little, and shook her head almost pityingly. "Oh Emma, if you think I'm the worst that these woods have to offer, you're in for a rude awakening, believe me."

Well, of course Emma believed her! It was why she'd been so upset to find herself alone in the first place! Just remembering that feeling now brought a chastisement to her lips before she could fully think it through. "Well what was I supposed to do, Regina! I woke up and everything was gone! You were gone! You couldn't have left a note or something?!"

Regina's eyebrows raised at that, and her lips quirked just a smidge. "And what do you suggest I should have written it with? I was trying to get out and back before you woke up. By the time I finished scratching it into the wall with my fingernails, we'd both have died of old age."

Emma scowled, sensing she should have stopped while she was ahead, but unable to make herself stop talking, even now. Fucking Regina! "Well _maybe _you could have carved it with your stone of a heart, I'm sure it's plenty hard enough!"

Regina didn't even appear phased. She just smiled, more broadly now. "Why Princess Emma, were you afraid I'd left you all by yourself in the big bad woods?"

Okay, now Emma was sure she'd lost the upper-hand altogether. And hadn't Regina just been saying how dangerous the woods were ten seconds ago? How was she making Emma sound so childish now? A wiser person might have given up the fight at this point, but no one had ever accused Emma of being wise. "No, I wasn't afraid! I just… why'd you have to take the horse?"

There was no wiping this smirk off of Regina's face, now. "I thought I'd go look and see if there was anything around that might be useful for us – I could cover more ground on the horse. If I'd known you needed him as a nursemaid, I would have left him, I assure you!"

Fuck. Disaster, flaming disaster. Forget it. "Aren't we supposed to be getting somewhere? Can we just go?"

Regina's triumphant grin almost made Emma want to take her chances on her own with the unknowns of the forest, but to her credit Regina contented herself with a silent victory, and simply turned and mounted the horse, offering Emma a hand up, which Emma reluctantly accepted.

For a short while they rode in silence, for which Emma was truly grateful, as it allowed her to nurse her wounded pride in peace. That gratitude withered and died on the vine the instant Regina spoke again.

"You know, dear… If I _had_ left you, I'm sure you could have shacked up with the Three Bears. I'm told they're quite partial to blondes."

"Shut up, Regina."

Emma couldn't hear Regina's laughter, but she could feel the gentle shaking of her companion's ribcage. Emma just sighed. _Tally this one up in the defeat column, Swan._


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry about the long wait, all - Real life has kept me busy. I will do my best to update sooner next time!_

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Oh these woods, these endless woods. On a couple of occasions as they rode, Regina had seen a stump or a clearing that she almost thought she recognized from the truncated Storybrooke version of this world, and it would give her a momentary pang – for what, she wasn't exactly sure. It wasn't until late in the third day of their flight, when the trees were starting to thin a bit, that the full heft of that feeling really hit her – she slowed the horse to a halt, taking in the strange sight before her.

"Emma." The name was still odd on her lips, a concession by someone long used to never making them. But these were strange times. "We've reached the border."

Almost instantly, Emma raised her head from where it had been resting in uneasy but necessary sleep. Just as quickly, Regina felt the loss. As soon as it was gone, she missed the unfamiliar pressure of that head that had been buried against her shoulder. In this world of hers, always so densely populated with shining princesses and inevitable true loves and the fortunate few, the weight was a mercifully wordless affirmation of the fact that she was not, as she'd sometimes felt, entirely absent - undeniable proof that she was at least present enough to be leaned against.

Emma, though bleary from her sudden awakening, seemed to register relatively quickly what Regina was looking at, based upon the quiet hum of acknowledgment she made. There was a line burned into the earth, running across the ground, over and down the trees, marking any obstacle that lay in its path – a dark burnt line that declared 'here is where the curse ended' or maybe 'here is where it began.' It was the demarcation of what had been Regina's changeless decades, and Emma's life altogether. Beyond it was a new and unfamiliar world, for both of them.

"So we're leaving, huh?" Emma finally said. Silly words, all that she was capable of in that moment.

Regina nodded in response, without bothering to look back. "It's the safest option. Once we cross the border, we won't have the unhappy fortune of being instantly recognized by anyone we come across." They'd discussed this. Emma had seemed to understand the fundamental necessity of leaving the land in which they were so well known – beloved, in Emma's case; notorious, in Regina's.

"I don't know if 'unhappy fortune' is necessarily the right description... I mean... you used the curse to make yourself mayor of a small town. I'd call it maybe an 'unfortunate design flaw.'" Not a particularly helpful observation, Emma knew, but though she might have shied away from the possibility of Regina's death, she wasn't quite on board with Regina playing the injured party in all of this.

The only response to the comment was a shrug, conceding the point. Although Emma had understood well enough the snub Regina had intended against her hapless townsfolk, there was an argument to be made that the unhappy fortune she had spoken of went back far further than the curse - it had always been pointless to expect them see that. Those Charmings all believed that beautiful flowers should bloom from a garden of ash and darkness. They thought that was half the secret of a fairy tale. To them, the fault would always be her own. Regina, who'd til now traveled so many roads alone, would settle in this particular venture for a compatriot who was at least semi on her side.

"Are you ready?" Regina asked after a long moment of staring at that angry scar in the earth.

Emma made a sort of strangled noise of assent. Why the hell not? They'd come this far, what was to stop them from going a few feet further? The horse, largely unimpressed by the gravity of the situation, responded easily to Regina's direction and stepped forward. Now leaving Storybrooke

Nothing happened. A glorious nothing. Regina had been half prepared for her mother's binds to reach out and wrap her up – leaving was never something she'd been particularly successful at. But here she was, on the _other_ side of some line, at last – the free side. Behind her was the Enchanted Forest, her mother, Snow, the mantel of the Evil Queen… and Henry. Yes, it was hard to leave him in this sort of symbolic way – but putting that aside, Regina took a moment to revel in this long awaited sense of freedom.

"Wow." Emma said, dumbly. "I don't know why that felt so significant. I really feel like we just did something."

Regina nudged the horse onwards. "Well, in all truth, we did. Leaving the Enchanted Forest is leaving the heart of magic."

She'd said it like it was obvious, like it made some sort of sense. And Emma supposed it did, to her. Mayor Mills though she might always be to Emma, Regina was most decidedly from this world. She knew the ground rules. Emma didn't even have the language to talk about magic. For about the millionth time since she'd found herself in this world that had been nothing more than fairy tales back home, Emma wondered how the hell she'd ended up here.

Regina either understood the reason behind Emma's lack of response, or she simply felt like filling the silence, but she spoke on. "Magic isn't just a possibility that either exists or doesn't, in a world. It's a..." She stared into the distance, looking for the words. "An essence. It has qualities, properties. And it's not evenly distributed in this world." She turned back to look over her shoulder at Emma, who seemed to be listening closely, though the furrow in her brow suggested she was skeptical. "Think of it like oil – In Storybrooke's world – your world, if you like – if someone had asked 'Does this world have oil', you would answer yes. But that doesn't mean that it's equally distributed across the whole of the world. Some places are richer with it than others. And because it's a valuable resource, the places with significant quantities are more valuable – and accordingly more desired, for good or ill. Does that make sense?"

Emma nodded her head slowly. "Sure, I guess. So the Enchanted Forest is like on top of a big pool of magic?"

"More or less. Except that it's not some substance that the Enchanted Forest is on top of… The Enchanted Forest _is _the magical pocket. The magic touches everything there, the land, the people. Even those who don't actively practice magic are affected by it – it weaves through everything. That's why beanstalks are taller, there. Loves are truer. Good is 'gooder'-"

"And evil is eviler?" Interjected Emma.

Regina glanced over her shoulder once again, on her face a sly smile. "Oh, evil is the evilest… Magic drives things to extremes."

At first, Emma's only response was a thoughtful "Huh." She needed a minute to try to build a frame of context for a concept that was utterly foreign to her. "So what about someone like the Genie? He could only grant wishes in certain places?"

"No… He was a magical creature – at least he was until he was set free. He was like his own free-roaming pocket of magic; he took it with him. The same with Rumpelstiltskin, once he became the Dark One. And Jefferson's hat. The magic was within it."

"And… you?" Emma slowly asked.

Regina laughed, quickly and softly. "While I appreciate being thought of as a magical creature, I am, in fact, merely human. My power was from learning to control and manipulate the magic around me - not from magic within me."

"So you're powerless here, beyond the Enchanted Forest?"

Ah, Regina hated that word, 'powerless'. It called up too many long and lonely years of her young life. "Not entirely. Magic has pooled there, but it's not entirely absent anywhere in this world. And there are other places where it collects, in a lesser fashion. I can still use magic – not enough to bring armies to their knees, maybe – but probably enough to make your hair look slightly less unkempt."

"And will you?"

"What, fix your hair?" Regina turned around and looked at Emma, her expression measuring and dubious. "On second thought, I may have overstated the strength of my abilities a little…"

Emma rolled her eyes. "No, use magic."

At that, Regina returned to facing forward. "I promised Henry I wouldn't." She answered quietly.

Cautiously, Emma ventured on. "Do you think you'll be able to keep that promise?"

Regina had to acknowledge that it was a fair question to ask. "I'm going to try to." She answered simply. The real answer was even simpler, though. Already, Regina missed the fading sensation of the prickle of magic against her skin, whispering through her, leaving faint echoing promises of all that she could do. The real answer was, quite simply, _no. _


End file.
